


an essay on reprehensible killers

by umbr4e



Series: Amaguuji Week 2020 [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (mostly), Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Delusions, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, During Canon, Gen, Ghosts, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mostly Gen, Murder, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, Past Abuse, Prompt: Ritual, Sad Ending, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, rantaro isnt really around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbr4e/pseuds/umbr4e
Summary: “Death isn’t… Death isn’t a moral complication I’ve had to deal with before.”He also hasn’t had people other than sister that he cares about before, but that isn’t a thought he wants to dwell on.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo
Series: Amaguuji Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795822
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	an essay on reprehensible killers

**Author's Note:**

> amaguuji week by @servantc0re on instagram!  
> day 3: ritual/spencer's au
> 
> sorry yesterday's angst wasn't sad enough and it sucked ass so here you go

The room is exactly how he had left it previously.  
The walls are barely illuminated by dim candles, and a thin layer of dust settles all over the cracked and rotted floorboards, refusing to move despite the many pairs of shoes that had been trampling over it for the past week.  
For a moment, he admires the resilience of the dust, the refusal of the room to submit.

It reminds him of the unwavering determination of his friends.

Is he allowed to call them friends?

After what he did?

After what he’s about to do?

He draws lines of salt into the dust, circles and lines and symbols that serve no purpose but to assist him in his crimes, that serve no purpose but to take the life of one of the students waiting for him outside.  
If he focuses, he can almost taste the heavy, acrid smell of blood (from the events of last night or from his own mind, he doesn't know), and he stumbles a little.  
Stumbles, rights himself, and continues his task.  
Handfuls of salt slip through his bandaged fingers, the mental image of the circle clear in his mind, making it easier to guide lines reaching the corners of the room in a way that appears natural. 

“What are you thinking?”

Rantaro hovers a few feet away, fading in and out of various levels of opacity. Even in death, he is as calm as ever.

“About what is happening. I hope it works the way I intend it to.”

“It’s a clever trick.”

“Thank you, Rantaro. I put a fair amount of effort into it.”

Silence.

“You aren’t really as talkative as usual.”

“I am concentrating.”

“You’re scared.”

“I am not scared.”

“You’re nervous. You’re something like that, at least.”

“Nervousness has no place in this situation. What are you trying to insinuate, Rantaro?”

“...Do you feel guilty?”

“Guilty?” Korekiyo whips back, annoyance written all over his face. “And why would I feel guilty? I have done this dozens of times, you must know that by now. I am not guilty, or remorseful. They are all with sister. Why would I feel guilty, of all things?” 

“They aren’t with your sister, Kiyo.”

“But of course they are. If they weren’t going to be with her, I wouldn’t have done it.” 

“...Okay. Okay.”

“Thank you.”

The silence is somehow even heavier than before, despite the loud yelling of presumably Miu in the hallway.   
Korekiyo drags the salt in sharp, precise lines, staring at them with a furious intensity that he knew would be automatically suspicious, if the living were here to watch him. Momentarily, he’s glad to have asked that they wait outside.

Well.  
Well. It’s not like he wasn’t suspicious already, and it wasn’t like he truly minded.

He didn’t mind being seen as a senseless murderer, truly. Truly. There was a bitter comfort in knowing that the trial would be the last time he was going to set foot in the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, one way or another.

One way or another.

“It isn't the thought of your own death that bothers you, is it…?”

Kiyo tries his best to ignore the ghost behind him, but his efforts are futile. 

“It isn’t particularly their deaths that bother me, if that is the alternative you are proposing. I have done this before. I have killed before.”

He had.

He had, hadn’t he?

Then why was he so nauseous?

“Death isn’t… Death isn’t a moral complication I’ve had to deal with before.”

He also hasn’t had people other than sister that he cares about before, but that isn’t a thought he wants to dwell on.

“I… Am not doing anything wrong, Rantaro. I am not hurting people intentionally, the pain… The pain the families felt for not knowing how to communicate with their loved ones after death was simply collateral damage. It is simply collateral damage. You must understand this about me. I feel no guilt because I do no wrong.”

He does no wrong.

Driving the sword into Angie’s neck was not wrong, and she must know that. And he knows that, too.  
He knows that.

“...Do you really believe that? Or is it just a coping mechanism to justify your actions?”

“It is nothing of the sort. My actions need no justification.”

The tang of salt in the air does well enough to cover up the smell of blood.  
Silently, he curses Himiko for choosing this one, in particular. If… If his plan succeeded, this room would be a subject of thorough investigation, and he has no doubt they would find… Something. Something. (Something incriminating enough to prove that he was heinous and depraved enough to kill them both, murder them both in cold blood, make a killer of himself in their eyes, prove that he is as despicable as they might think, that isolating him was the right decision.)

He isn’t sure what it was going to be, but Shuichi had proven himself capable enough, and… Perhaps if he wasn’t in a state of shock last night, if he was more clear headed, he could have disposed of the evidence in a smarter fashion.

But Korekiyo knows better than to cry over spilled blood (he allows himself a smile at the joke, dark as it may be) and all he can do now is what he is supposed to.   
The salt creates intricate patterns on the dusty floorboards, and Korekiyo slowly stands back up to inspect his handiwork.

“It’s cool. It’s really cool that you can do stuff like this from memory.”

“Thank you. I… Appreciate it. I especially appreciate it since you are aware of the circle’s true purpose.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“...I’m not sure. Either way, I won’t mind the outcome. If I die, I can see her again. If not, I can go back and fulfill my promise.”

“But do you want to?”

Of course he does. Of course he wants to. 

He would do anything for sister.

And yet.

And yet there is an out of place knot in his stomach, sucking the air out of his very lungs.

For everyone else to die to ensure his escape…  
He found it beautiful when Kirumi wanted it, found her desperation to survive beautiful, but the thought of condemning them… No. He wasn’t condemning them. Death wasn’t damnation, he knew that better than anyone else. Death was not damnation.

The thought of letting them die for him specifically made him want to vomit.  
He saw none of Kirumi’s beauty in it.   
Only filth.  
(Only the filth of a monster torn apart so viciously by grief, that deluding himself into believing his crimes were justifiable was the only way for him to possibly cope.)

“Kiyo?”

“Yes?”

“I hope… I don’t know what I hope. I want you to be safe, but I want them to be safe too.”

“It is… Alright. Anyone would have mixed feelings about a situation like this one.”

“...Yeah. So… Is Angie a ghost or something, now?”

Korekiyo can’t help but grin at the scepticism in his tone. “Perhaps look at yourself before questioning the credibility of the spirit world, Rantaro.”

“I’m not a ghost, Kiyo.”

“Oh, but you are.”

“You made me up to have someone to talk to.” 

“Still.”

Still.

When Korekiyo opens the door to summon them inside, he can’t feel Rantaro’s presence behind him.


End file.
